Insanity Unleashed
by Black City Skyline
Summary: In the dog days of time, the beasts of aggression turned and bit the master's hand. An illogical war was thrust into reality's lap, with it's rules unknown to all and the payoff nonexistent.
1. Chapter 1: Sayaka's Charge

| Insanity Unleashed |

In the dog days of time, the beasts of aggression turned and bit the master's hand. An illogical war was thrust into reality's lap, with it's rules unknown to all and the payoff nonexistent.

From various key journal entries and audio logs from those that participated in this war, the fog of war from this conflicting time period when the ill incubator, Anbey, conscripted Humanity and marched on his own planet, is shredded apart to reveal the true facts. Some scenes are guesswork, some entries have been edited, but everything is taken from the first hand accounts.

* * *

"Yeeaaa!" 1st Lieutenant Sayaka Miki screamed, swinging her sword down like a lumberjack's axe.  
"I don't understand humans. Where are her reinforcements? What does she hope to accomplish?" one soldier spoke to no one in particular, facing Sayaka with weapon raised. Its unblinking eyes gleamed cherry red, a feline smile etched onto its face like a tree's hump. Having vanquished one foe, she turned to the next in order, eyes clothed in cold blood. All she saw was red. Red dead. Dead red. Red yet to be dead. Soon to be dead red.  
Purple plasma assaulted her bodily temple, exploding masonry and blood out in a quasi-exit wound in reverse akin to a solar flare. This meant nothing to her, she didn't feel any pain; all she felt was serenity. Absolute. Complete. A grave's serenity, the most potent.  
Just like an insane harpy Sayaka screamed and flew. The narrowness of the trench allowed her enemies to always be in view, always in reach, but the principle was the same for them. The enemy fell back, shooting as they went, staying out of Sayaka's reach. However she proved too fast, catching up and slicing one into eighths in heartbeats. It went down with no sound, no screams of pain, its comrades continued to fall back with no vengeance swearing; only the soft discharging of their guns. What cold efficiency, Sayaka would have thought if she still thought rationally.  
She went after the others, like a screaming blur cutting down silent, muscular machines with permanent smiles. Mad Sayaka. The Blue Berserker. Witchblade. She fulfilled all those names with honors. Any sword dancer that bore witness to her attacks that evening would have cried from such beauty. No wasted movement, no loss of speed. Sayaka Miki was writing reality in strokes and blood. Blood levels escalated with the body count as she chopped her way from end to end, negating the enemy's presence there with the flash of her swings.

She stood there, slight tremors coursing through her arms, hands grasping the swords dripping with the ichor of the dead with zombie might. Redness pooled around her ankles, red droplets fell from her and joined their brethren. Who knew an incubator body held such a volume. Sayaka breathed deep.

Sanity restored, she stared at the handiwork of a harvest thresher. Chunks of raw meat laid about in piles, as carpets, or clutching guns. What did she wake up to? What happened here? Who or what could do this? Her last memory was... yes, looking at and listening to various reports when...  
Crunch. The noise pierced the air like a pindrop. She whipped her gaze to the source, unable to see past her blood heavy bangs.  
"It's us, 1st Lieutenant! It's the 117th Musketeers! You're among friends, you can be at ease. She's over here!" The soldier yelled out to the others before dropping down into the gory trench.  
"Wha-what happened?" She asked, uncertain of her own voice.  
"Good entropy!" A soldier hissed, seeing the wanton destruction.  
"Here, Ma'am, my handkerchief." Someone handed her a handkerchief. People jumped down into the trench. Splashes, curses, and trudging filled the ears of everyone present. Sayaka wiped her bangs back and cleaned her face, then handed the handkerchief back; it wasn't white anymore. "Again, what happened?" Saucer helmets, dull green fatigues and vests, chiseled jaws, clear eyes and five o'clock shadows, armed friendlies; a list of items considered reassuring on this hellish planet.  
"You charged the enemy line without any backup or plans." The trench wasn't the basic variety of one, the walls were boarded up with wood, but the floor, if you saw it past the meat and broth, was more of a ground, composed solely of dirt. In this case, mud.  
"Holy Helena, did you leave any for us?" Sayaka stared at the speaker, who was admiring the river of death with shock, before going back to the one she was talking to.  
"I charged this trench system with no backup? That doesn't sound like me."  
"Which surprised us, but I guess there's a first for everythin- Ma'am, you're bleeding." He pointed at her torso. Sayaka examined herself. There were numerous holes, here and there, that leaked her blood.  
"We need to escort you back." The soldier pointed at three random soldiers that just got their boots wet, giving them orders. Sayaka was dazed. So many wounds, how did she continue to stand? How come there was no pain? And how come she felt so empty inside?  
"Ma'am, these three will see to it that you arrive safely at the medic's tent. I'll stay here and check for hostiles." He saluted. Sayaka nodded.  
"Stay on your toes. Something monstrous may be lurking here."  
"R-right." He murmured as he joined the others.  
"Ma'am! Please follow us!" One soldier, a young man with bright eyes, a clean shave, still with a measure of innocence and optimism composing his features, stepped up with a warm smile.  
"Right. Lead on, soldier."  
"Ma'am!" The four climbed out.

* * *

Orange light pricked her eyes. It wasn't something she got used to. When evening landed, everything captured the sun's rays and glowed. Only their tents didn't glow or reflect any light, absorbing it all like some parasite.  
It was peak mid evening, around 1800, and the three soldiers with their CO were walking into base. No discussion was held, Sayaka too busy analyzing what had happened to talk, as they made their way to the tent of medical healing.  
Stepping inside, the smell of blood, waste, antiseptic, and the sound of moaning overpowered their senses. Several rows of cots, many of them with a damaged body, filled the interior. Blazing lanterns hung at key spots for maximum light on retractable metal poles.  
A man with salt and pepper hair in a blood stained white coat pulled a dirty white blanket over a limp body. Four others shared a similar fate.  
"Hey, Doc, we have a patient for you."  
"Bring him over to a cot, any will do, and lay him ou- Time is the essence here! Bring her over here now." The doctor grew tense. The 1st Lieutenant this badly hurt? How? What happened? He kicked himself into overdrive, gathering all of his instruments - all of them - into a tray.  
"I think she will need the operating table."  
"No, I don't. Just wrap me up in gauze, I'll be fine."  
"But have you looked -"  
"That's an order." Sayaka and the doctor glared at one another like mortal enemies. A contest of wills had initiated. The first to blink would submit. The winner would have bragging rights. The doctor blinked, then sighed with a shrug. "You know your limits." He put everything back, replacing the previous heap of steel with one of white cloth wrap.  
"You two, go back to the trench and bolster our might there. They just might need you two."  
"Yes, Ma'am!"  
"And you," Sayaka turned to the young soldier. "Go to my command tent and report to H.Q. what has happened."  
"Yes, Ma'am!" He saluted and left. That left bloody Sayaka with the wounded, and the loser doctor.

Sayaka stripped down to the waist, tossing her heavy with blood clothing on a cot. Usually when a young female stripped the guys would catcall, but this wasn't a normal situation. The guys were too concerned with their own wounds, or were shocked to see her still alive. The doctor didn't care.  
"Just wrap you up?" He asked, laying the tray on a cot.  
"Like a mummy." She replied, raising her arms to make it easier for the doctor to tend to her wounds.

He did just that. He wrapped her up good, making it hard for Sayaka to breath. It took him a while to patch her up, layer after layer of gauze had to be applied before the blood stopped seeping through; all the while muttering 'You shouldn't be alive. You shouldn't be breathing, let alone standing, with this many holes." But alive she was.  
Sayaka remembered what happened before the trench. She was reading her company's reports on the trenchline that had been stalling them - they should be pillaging the city with Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe's squad right now - trying to find a weakness to exploit when the radio came to life. Kyoko Sakura was shot down, assistance was requested. Kyoko, her friend, her buddy, possibly dead. The memory brought her dangerously close to losing her cool again, but Sayaka bit it back. She'll go visit her later. Yes, that was right, she'll go see her later.  
"Ma'am."  
"Yes?" Sayaka came back to reality from her thoughts at that young man's voice. Her eyes, once murky, sprang to springwater life. The young soldier saluted before continuing.  
"H.Q. has been notified of the situation and has ordered you to report in at the Helena, immediately. Now, Ma'am." "Wow, you hear that, Doc?" Sayaka's eyes swiveled up to the doctor's direction.  
"Sure did. you're almost done, so stay put." The doctor's voice was full of concentrated effort.  
"Soldier, what's your name?" She gazed again at the young soldier.  
"Ibram, Ma'am."  
"Ibram, go fetch a jeep and bring it back here."  
"Ma'am!" A snap, crack, pop salute and a crisp turn, the boy disappeared.  
"You're done. Excuse me, there are other patients here." The doctor hurried away, his intent on the others clear to behold.  
"Of course, Doctor, thanks for tending to me." Sayaka dressed in the bloody clothes, still hollow inside and unburdened by pain. When she stepped out, the doctor was covering another poor soul. A minute later Ibram came to a halt in front of her with the requested vehicle.  
"To Helena, and step on it."

* * *

The Helena, or the Dearest Helena to the ill High Commander, was a starship. Once she belonged to the incubators, she now was the proud flagship for the Entropy Liberation Army. With a hammerhead harboring a mighty cannon, a narrow neck connecting it to a slim body that had a medium sized engine jutting from each side, she brought awe to anyone who looked at her. Sayaka Miki was no exception. She often wondered why they didn't use Helena but never spoke it freely.  
At the base Sayaka told Ibram to stay put, and looked up at Helena. It was darkening now, and the lights of the cannon and windows grew more pronounced, the metal growing less so. She was teleported up. After the blue particles blinked away and the slight nausea smoothed out, Sayaka snapped a salute to the two present. They were taken aback by the zombie saluting them but once they recognized the cape and swords they saluted back. She gave up her swords and followed one crewmember when prompted.  
On the way to the High Commander's ready room, Sayaka looked at everything. It had been a long spell since she saw anything this clean and bright. White lights, gunmetal grey walls, doors that opened when you neared, the perfect temperature and pressure; it was so much better than that planet. Not a speck of blood anywhere! And here she was, with bloodied bandages that occasionally dropped blood on the floor, seeping wounds, clothing that were three times their weight thanks to their blood retention; she really didn't look ready to meet the High Commander.  
The upside down bullet shaped elevator shot them to the bridge just like that, a bullet. The ensign - one shiny gold pip on his immaculate black velvet collar - had a hard time keeping his eyes away from the blood golem standing at his right flank; like a statue, leaving blood wherever she went. The door opened, the two stepped out to be engulfed by the ambiance of the bridge.

A library's hush, blinking lights, electric gerbils squealing, a body at every station. Sayaka knew in her gut how important this room was. It was the ship's brain.  
"Right this way," the ensign whispered. The two walked across the bridge, no noise echoed their steps but a few heads did turn her way and gazed in alarm. They descended a few steps and stopped before a door, where the ensign depressed a button. A bell chimed.  
"Come in." A strong feminine voice answered. The door opened with both egressing into the dimly lit room.  
"Here is 1st Lieutenant Miki as per instructions." The ensign announced.  
"Very good. You're dismissed."  
"Sir." With that the ensign clicked his feet and left, leaving Sayaka with the High Commander. The High Commander tsk'd at the ensign's choice of pronoun.

Inside the the High Commander's ready room. What an honor! Sayaka's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. No white lights in here, only warm lights that left many dark patches around the room. unlike the medical tent, the lighting in here was for mood than anything else. From what was illuminated the room was warm, welcoming; entirely human. The richly colored wood made up the walls, desk, and even some of the chairs. A few chairs were scattered further in the room, expensive and aged. Portraits of things beyond her understanding lined the walls, their glass faces mirroring polar opposites. A square window vented a view to the outside; it was darkening quickly now, the dark blues and coal blacks smearing the land like oil. A desk stood colossal between her and Anbey. A green shaded banker's lamp poured light on some pieces of paper, a corner of something Sayaka didn't recognize, a radio, and Anbey herself.  
"Tell me what happened, Miki Sayaka." Anbey leaned forward, showing herself for Sayaka's benefit. White hair rooted in her scalp, cherry red eyes with dark red irises, white gloves and a high-grade black leather military uniform with a solid wall of medals pinned to her left breast. The very model of a High Commander.  
"Don't you already know? I ordered someone to report in as soon as I returned."  
"I want to hear you report it in your own words."  
"Ma'am," Sayaka saluted. Anbey didn't tsk at her. "According to my men I charged the enemy trenchlines by myself, and, from there, I, or something, butchered everyone there." Anbey's eyes widened a fraction.  
"You just charged them all alone?"  
"Yes, yes I did."  
"No stratagem?"  
"None."  
"Amazing." Anbey whispered, taking the information in. Sayaka's bloodied state certainly did back up what she said. "Just so you know, the 117th reported in before you came to my room, they report all is clear of unknown and known hostiles. Good job! You broke the stalemate, now we can march forward with renewed vigor!" A slasher's smile loomed, white ivory teeth showing.  
"Thank you, Ma'am." Sayaka spoke, snapping to attention a bit more. Anbey searched her desk's drawers while muttering 'medals' over and over again until she found them.  
"The Red Star Blossom medal is yours for performing above and beyond your duties, and for solving a major headache." Anbey stood, walked around her desk, and pinned the medal - shaped like a red star with a flower blooming in the middle attached to a scarlet ribbon - on Sayaka's chest. It glinted dim pride.  
Sayaka saw more of Anbey. Her white hair traveled down her backside, stopped just above her feet's soles. Two gold rings floated behind her knees, both with her hair in the middle. This was the most obvious sign she was an incubator. Her chest was a cliff, which complimented her figure more than harmed it.  
"There, all pinned." Anbey breathed, their faces close enough to kiss. Eyes locked. Sayaka's body screamed that the only future of this moment was where she would be seduced by Anbey. She waited for it to happen.  
The feeling died when Anbey made her way back to her chair.  
"You're dismissed. Go catch some rest, you've earned it."  
"M-Ma'am!" Sayaka stuttered, saluted, and turned to the door. She felt she failed a test, but also managed to dodge a bullet; it was a strange mixture.

* * *

Depressing the button opened the door where the ensign waited to escort Sayaka back to the teleporter room. The trip back was silent, Sayaka bled less, and the traces she left on the way in were gone. She retrieved her bloody swords and saluted, beaming down to the jeep. Ibram drove her back, making little small talk. Sayaka felt tired, and sad. Over herself, over Kyoko. She wondered if her friend survived, or died. Was she in the morgue, or the hospital? Recovering, or resting in peace? She blinked some tears away. She must remain strong in front of her men. They looked up to her, after all.

It was already well into nighttime when they got back to base. Small campfires dotted the encampment. Stepping out of the jeep, Sayaka dismissed young Ibram, and wandered toward her personal tent without looking back. On the way people talked to her, remarked on her new medal, some even suggested Witchblade as a moniker for her. It appeared everyone was back from the trenches. Although they were on guard, the mood felt lighter. The soldiers were happy the stalemate was gone, just like High Commander Anbey.  
Sayaka laughed, exchanged a few words, listened; acted like a caring, socialable leader would have. It was hard, but she managed to pull it off.  
Inside her tent she didn't bother changing her uniform, diving straight in to writing in her journal. At first stroke she was fine, when more sentences appeared her emotions surged until, when there were paragraphs, she flung herself away from the journal in mid sentence. Tears in her worried eyes, Sayaka raced out to the eastern frontline, to where she was. She would see Kyoko's state with her own eyes.

* * *

"When the madness cleared, the red sight vanished and all movement ceased, I found myself in a trench of horrors. Ankle deep blood, diced meat in various configurations, two red swords in my redder hands; what did I wake up to? Last memory I had before that was me sitting in my command tent, reading on the trench and listening to reports from other parts of the frontline, when I heard that, yes, Kyoko Sakura was down. Possibly KIA, medical assistance and reinforcements requested. That scene, then red, then that trench.  
My men found me down there, covered head to toe in ichor and wounds. They told me I charged the enemy alone. That's not me. That's not me. I don't make rash decisions, let alone suicidal ones. It took the doctor a while to patch me up, the entire time telling me I should be dead. Maybe I am, and I don't know it?  
High Commander Anbey congratulated me on my impromptu rage after expressing amazement at the very same. I broke the stalemate she said, now we can march forward with renewed vigor. I was awarded the Red Star Blossom medal. Something odd occurred afterwards between me and her. I'm not too sure, though.  
Excuse me, Journal, I have to see a friend. May kami-sama have"

- From the Journal of 1st Lieutenant Sayaka "Witchblade" Miki Commander of the 117th Musketeers

Transcript begins at 00:00:00; ends at 00:06:48.

Click!

"... I almost raped Miki Sayaka. Interesting. She was so bloody, and all the voices were screaming 'Rape Her!' I became very horny all of a sudden... wait, is this on? FUCK! It i-"

Click!

Wrrrrrr

Click!

Click!

[Faintly a french war song played. The words aren't loud enough to be captured. Research indicates it is called 'Aria']

"Stardate Alpha 0031. This is High Commander Anbey, reporting in to fill in history. The western frontline stalemate has been broken! Finally. Miki Sayaka, first lieutenant and commander of the one-one-seventh Musketeers, managed that by charging them and cutting them wholesale. I awarded her the Red Star Blossom. I should award her with a couple of juicy incubator steaks. Hahaha! Hey, enough grilling and they can be considered food rations. Let it be noted that her suicidal charge sped up our schedule by weeks and saved us many artillery shells. I do wonder what sparked her charge..."

[Timer at 00:02:25. Silence for thirty-five seconds.]

"News on the eastern frontline. Sakura Kyoko, major and commander of the seven-one-seventh Red Lancers, is dead. Her name has been added onto the deceased list. Killed in action, how? Unknown at the moment. Will update when it becomes clear. The seven-one-seventh are holding despite being leaderless. I need to remedy this soon. All experiments have shown this new system to be unstable, like me, haha! Who knows what'll happen to the seven-one-seventh if left alone."

[Timer at 00:04:05. Shuffling paper for fifteen seconds.]

"Jugs and the one-oh-second are, hehehe, spearheading an assault into the incubator city of [Alien garble.] Heavy resistance, light casualties. I wonder when Akemi Homura will finish her assignment. Ah, yeah, before I forget: Seven died in the one-one-seventh to keep Miki Sayaka alive. A small price to pay for the accomplishment she achieved. However, this does transform the theory of leader-company connection into law."

[Timer at 00:05:36. The chair creaks. Anbey sighs.]

"I got this war in the bag, huh? Those faggot incubators never knew that I, Anbey, would backstab them! HAHAHAHAHA!  
Given enough time and no surprises we should occupy a ghost town. Then, with all my army assembled, I will give a speech. Bitches love speeches.  
This is Anbey, signing out."

Click!

Transcript ends at 00:06:48.

- Audio Log From High Commander Anbey of the Entropy Liberation Army


	2. Chapter 2: ROT-D's Day

2nd Lieutenant Madoka Kaname sat in her command tent, alone. Blood red ribbons tied her pink hair into twin tails. The uniform of the Entropy Liberation Army surrounded her petite body, her platoon's emblem sewn on her left shoulder. The emblem was in the shape of a shield, with a shell hailing from the heavens. Tiny words stated her platoon name: 10th Corpse Rainers. Neat and tied, her combat boots hugged her feet, giving her firm grounding. She was the very model of an ELA soldier. Her table held up papers that she should have been paying attention to, but she was too busy thinking about Sayaka to work.

She remembered how Sayaka came to her tent before she left. They talked, reminisced the past, shared a few laughs, and then it was time to go. Sayaka, with sword in hand, cape fluttering behind her, a jovial grin plastered on her face, left her with these words, 'Don't worry, Madoka, I'll leave some for you!'

That was weeks ago, right before she was stalemated on the western front.

With static her radio issued orders, requests for reinforcements, medical assistance, and a myriad of other topics in screaming, calm, tense voices; the usual in a genocidal war.

It was peaceful in the tent, excluding the muffled thumps of the Basilisks. The only company she had was the radio, and her ever nagging concern; like a bothersome visitor that wouldn't leave when their welcome was worn thin. The radio issued a noteworthy report that caught Madoka's attention. The commander of the 717th was down, medical assistance requested. Urgent. That was... Kyoko Sakura, right? Madoka pondered.

Kyoko Sakura. A friend of Sayaka Miki. The two met and hit it off very well on the Helena on their way to this world. Madoka remembered all the times she was alone, went searching for her friend, only to find Kyoko there as well. She tried being friends with her but something made it awkward between the two, and that connection never clicked. More loneliness, then she met her.

"I've received my orders." A familiar voice penetrated the air.

"Homura!" Madoka stood up and went to her friend. Colonel Homura Akemi stepped fully into the tent and embraced her beloved. The alien suit that clung to Homura's body felt strange to her. Completely alien, no words were able to describe the texture at all. But the suit didn't matter to her, her Homu was in there, her warmth providing evidence of just that.

"Madoka." Her cold-blooded killer's hands stroked pink hair. Their bodies pressed tight, a subtle fire burning in each.

"Another mission?" Madoka lifted her head from her lover's shoulder and gazed into her eyes. Amber met violet.

"Mmhmm. Another mission."

"Just like before?" Madoka face's betrayed her concern.

"Yeah," Homura nodded. "Classified. I came here to tell you that I'll be gone for... a few hours. Maybe more. It shouldn't be like that one mission."

"I hope to Entropy you're right. Two days of worrying... I can't stand to make it four." Tears filled Madoka's eyes, then escaped them, streaking down her cheeks like wishing stars.

"Oh, no, no... don't cry, Madoka." Homura's lips planted feather soft kisses that left tiny salt deposits on her pink deserts. Licking the tears off her lips, Homura swiped her thumbs under Madoka's eyes, further drying the wet trails away from that deeply treasured face. Madoka gazed up at her, silent questions and suggestions spewing forth. Homura's smile was gentle. She was the only one to coax such gentleness from the Colonel.

"I won't be gone for two days, or four, or a week. Just a few hours, then straight back to you. You can count on that." Madoka nodded. Homura's attention drifted past her shoulder, over to the reports.

"Did I interrupt you on your work?" Madoka shook her head.

"No. I was thinking about Sayaka-chan when you came by."

"Ah." Homura ruffled Madoka's hair. "I looked into her situation, and they're still stuck. She's alive, and safe. Just hung up on trying to advance."

Madoka nodded again, silent. Her face was looking at the radio, clearly thinking about Sayaka now. Homura kept her hand on top of Madoka's head before dropping it. She turned around.

"I'll see you when I get back." She started on her way out. Madoka's voice reached her ears. Homura turned back to her, and a face holding such brutally intimate concern stared back. It hurt Homura to see it.

"Good luck,"

Homura smiled.

"And come back to me - alive - intact - please."

Her long legs strode forward, carrying her to her most valued treasure. Their lips met. The hug was intense, on both sides, any one could see and feel that.

"I will, Madoka, I promise!"

The arms of her pink haired lover threatened to never let her go. She didn't want her to leave. A heartfelt smile rose to the surface. She wanted to cry at that pure emotion. She was loved.

Still in her arms, Homura backed off a little, pivoted Madoka's gaze upward with tender index and thumb on her chin, and kissed her again. This kiss was different from the rest: it was possibly the last kiss the two would share, thus they packed a lifetime's worth into it. They parted, panting softly on each side. Madoka felt her eyes tearing.

"I promise. I promise. I'll return to you, intact, alive. I promise!" Homura breathed. She turned, hardening her expression, and walked away, crossing the threshold as the Colonel. The specialist Anbey relied on. The Serpent Killer.

Alone, Madoka composed herself and returned to work. Now she worried over two people.

* * *

To escape the rut she was in, Madoka went over to the Basilisk Nest - the plateau where they parked their basilisk artillery and fired from. It was ideal for their purpose, allowing them to touch from the farthest western point to the farthest eastern point, especially the city. Everything was reachable for them in this theater.

The ground rumbled from each shell blast, a telling point to the tremendous kinetic energy used for making shells fly. The 2nd Lieutenant particularly enjoyed this. It made her bones tremble, her organs liquify, and shouted to her ears with the potency of a fire and sulfur priest.

She needed to be up here.

The basilisk cannon was a long barrel strapped to a pair of wheels with a platform at the back fit for two. You could adjust the aim side to side, or up and down, but that was all. It was enough for what they wanted.

Stepping up the path, her booted feet handling the pebbles without any problem, Madoka saw the crews manning these fearsome cannons. Radio-bearers passed coordinates to the firing crews, who loaded the shells and sent them flying. A simple system they followed, but they were the best at it, to the relief and glee of all the soldiers on this planet.

Everyone present gradually noticed their commander standing nearby, and snapped crisp salutes her way. She merely nodded, signaling them to be at ease. One of the radio-bearers walked up to her, opened his mouth to begin reporting something when his radio crackled to life.

"This is Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe of the 102nd Valkyries, requesting artillery bombardment. I repeat, this is Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe of the 102nd..."

The voice had a regal edge to it... was it Mami-san? Madoka had a few meals with her on the Helena, conversed with her. She struck Madoka as, well, cool. Someone she would like to be friends with after this campaign was over.

She decided to deliver this personally. She took the receiver from the radio bearer's pack.

"This is 2nd Lieutenant Kaname of the 10th Corpse Rainers, give me your X, Y, Z coordinates."

"Kaname?" A spike of interference overcame the voice. Another female voice could be heard saying 'stay down, Ma'am.'

"Right. Kaname? Our coordinates are..." and she gave them.

Madoka manned the nearest basilisk and tuned it to the specified coordinates. The X, Y, Z coordinates were the keys to the Cross of Influence. Horizontal, vertical, and Depth planes need to be charted out to assure accurate strikes. The numbers the Lieutenant Colonel gave her lead her to aim at the northeastern quadrant of the city. With an angle of sixty degrees on the barrel, she ordered the operators to load and fire.

Standard procedure was observed: the radio bearer stood nearby with channels clear, Madoka stepped down from the platform, the two operators primed the cannon and loaded the shell. Both turned to their CO with hands on the firing levers. Madoka held their gaze, waited, nodded once. That was their signal. Pulling back, a great roar pierced the air.

The heavens departed for the blessed object on its holy pilgrimage to Mecca. Mecca was full of alien believers deeply entrenched in their alien faith. Moments later, they were delivered unto the bosom of their alien god.

The radio crackled with the interference of a properly delivered shell. No bombardment was needed; she only needed one shell. Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe came back on when the interference died.

"The 102nd Valkyries thank the 10th Corpse Rainers for another saving grace, and I thank you, Madoka Kaname." So it was Mami. In the background soldiers were chanting 'ROT-D!'

"Um, Mami-san, why are they chanting Rotty?"

"Because you saved us a lot of trouble again. And it's 'ROT-D', dear."

"ROT-D?"

"Right On Target Delivery. This is the 102nd, signing off." The receiver disappeared from her hand, her head swimming. She had a nickname.

"Way to go, ROT-D." The radio-bearer grinned at her.

And it was spreading.

* * *

Madoka spent the afternoon shooting shells and worrying over Homura. A few rather resourceful soldiers notice this, spoke in conspiratorial conference, and left without her being the wiser. By the dying glow of afternoon she wrote in her journal, soaking in the blasts. However, she was unable to finish it - those resourceful soldiers came back with a large cake on a plate and presented it to her.

"W-what's this for?" Madoka was amazed with the cake. "It's for you, Ma'am."

"Yeah. For how talented you are."

"Talented?" She wasn't that talented at anything, she believed.

"You always hit your target, and always on the first shell!" One took a plate out from under the one holding the cake, and sliced a large piece for her. A fork was planted into the slice. She took it with a thank you.

"I'm sure anyone could do that." She said, plate in hand.

"Nope. You're the only one good with precision strikes. Now eat your slice, Ma'am." Madoka cut a bit off with the metal fork and shoveled it in. It was delicious.

"I can't eat all that, so... why don't you treat everyone else to a slice?"

"A sound plan, Ma'am."

* * *

It was the middle of night, a single lantern blazed on the metal pole. Outside was the color and thickness of pitch. Inside it was dim, and empty.

Too empty.

Madoka couldn't sleep, too fraught with worry to feel the need to lay down. Visions of futures she didn't want, of ghastly events in the present she wouldn't be able to stand, flickered before her mind's eye like ghosts; haunting her.

Just like before, when She was missing for so long.

She was in her personal tent, sitting at a small table on a small stool, her journal resting open before her. No need to be in the command tent. The Basilisk Nest was quiet.

Her guts were knotted, her eyes glued to the flap, willing Her to appear.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

A pendulum of seconds, minutes swung on. She never appeared. She folded her hands and stared at them.

Even more waiting.

"Madoka."

Madoka snapped her gaze to the voice.

Homura - cut, bruised, dirtied, with half a face in blood and a lack of balance - stood in the entrance of her tent.

* * *

"Dear Journal,

Homu left on another mission. Classified. She had come by to tell me to not worry and that she will be back. She promised she will. If she was gone for another two days. I want her to be right. Before she left she told me that Sayaka-chan was idling, thinking of a way to beat her stalemate. I hope she's alright. Before she left, she came to see me, and left saying 'Don't worry, Madoka, I'll leave some for you!'  
The radio, I think, announced that the commander for the 717th was KIA. That would be Kyoko, Sayaka's friend, I think. Could she really be dead? Does Sayaka know? How is she taking it?  
I can still feel her kisses, still see her smile. Homura! Homura! Homura! Come back to me intact, alive. Please.

[A hand print in blood appears here, blurring the words underneath the dried red.]

Today Mami-san of the 102nd Valkyries requested bombardment on a target. I personally delivered it, and did it in one shell. I noticed her squad was calling me 'ROT-D' or, after I asked Mami-san, 'Right On Target Delivery.' I still don't know what to think.  
Journal, I really enjoy the feel of the blasts from the basilisks. Being near them as they fire comforts me, excites me. They're awes Excuse me, Journal, some soldiers are bringing a cake over to me.

It was a tall white cake, Journal! The slice they handed me was very delicious. So delicious I had them share the cake with the rest of the soldiers. I hope they enjoyed it as much as I did. They said I am talented. Am I, Journal? You've been my constant companion from the Helena to here, and only you can judge whether or not I've got talent. But you don't have a mouth, so you can't voice the answer.  
But now, Journal, I wait for Homu to come back. She told me she'd come back in a few hours. It's been longer than a few hours, and she still isn't here. All I can do is wait, Journal."

- From the Journal of 2nd Lieutenant Madoka 'ROT-D' Kaname

Commander of the 10th Corpse Rainers

Transcript begins at 00:00:00, ends at 00:01:30.

Click!

"Stardate Alpha 0032, this is High Commander Anbey reporting in. Well, not really, just getting something clear. What you probably didn't expect was that I get reports on EVERYTHING. From minor to major but what I have in front of me takes the... HAHAHA... cake... It's a report detailing the theft of a fuckin' cake! The chef expects me to do an investigation into the matter and punish the person or persons responsible. Well guess what, Mr. Chef, I DON'T CARE."

[Timer at 00:01:15. Silence for ten seconds.]

"I should send the chef out and blast him with the Yamato cannon for this."

[A sigh.]

"This is Anbey, signing off."

Click!

Transcript ends at 00:01:30.

- From the audio log of High Commander Anbey of the Entropy Liberation Army.


	3. Chapter 3: Kyoko's Passing

Silence screamed at her with overwhelming force. Kyoko lay on a thin steel table. A sucking wound had replaced her chest, a sea of black shone grotesque. Sayaka was beyond shocked; autopilot had been switched on, her mind free to shield itself from all of this. Thanks to that, her soldier's eyes registered the type of damage. Flachettes. Point blank range from a flak shotgun would be the only gun capable of this. All Sayaka did was stare. Her buddy, within reach, was untouchable; now a hideous and sunken shell harboring ruin. Rigor mortis settled upon the edges of her relaxed expression; she'd rest in eternal, comfortable peace.  
No words were necessary, nor desired. Kyoko shouldn't be dead. Sayaka had slipped into an alternate reality without knowing it, one where Kyoko wasn't alive and she made suicidal decisions at the drop of a hat.

She took a step toward the table. Her heart thumped irregular, heavy like cast iron. Another step, and her stomach dropped from the stratosphere. Reaching for her friend, her hands shook from the giddy possibilities of potential realities. A cool cheek registered on her sense of touch, skinship granting answers.  
Why her? Sayaka asked, her heart and soul sick. Grief accumulated, blackening her fragile mood.  
Sayaka stroked that cheek, then the other, next the hair; all of it stained with specks of drying blood. The head was lifted, held against a warmer cheek; the blood golem hugged a corpse. With new tears sliding down her face, Sayaka said goodbye. She won't return here for the duration of the war, nor will she see her friend again. With reverence she returned Kyoko to her original position, except she crossed her hands over her sucking wound. She planted a kiss on the congealing blood dotted forehead.

I'll murder them all, Sayaka promised her dead friend, a hand stroking the corpse's hair. The doors opened and someone entered. Gaunt and grim faced, his face was scruffy, and an eye nursed a purple mound. He wore the robes of a techpriest replete with oil stains. In his watery eyes glittered surprise, sadness, then guardedness; all molding together to produce a pool of blue with which one should be careful of a hard bottom.  
She and he shared a hard gaze, a good friend and a questionable subordinate. Two vast worlds with no way of adequate communication, but sharing one bond; Kyoko.

Sayaka straightened herself and made her way toward the doors. They passed each other, one leaving, and one mourning, but neither one wishing to break the heavy silence.

Outside the hustle and bustle of activity became apparent. Thin, fragile looking men with murky eyes drove tanks and supply trucks to and from their destinations, dust clouds swirling in their wake. This was the single greatest congregation of mobilization, and it didn't surprise Sayaka; this was Kyoko's camp, the home of swift assault tanks. If a blitzkrieg was ever needed, Kyoko was the one to fulfill it. But now that the legend was dead, all future blitzkriegs will be weaker and weaker echoes of the true thing.

Sayaka clenched her jaw, steeling her emotions. She was originally going to run all the way here but Ibram, that naive, young soldier, saw her and brought her a jeep. He personally drove her all the way here, so where exactly was he idling at?

"Ma'am." Ibram's voice reached her ears. She turned her gaze to the right and found him standing, crisp and clean, waiting on her. The jeep right behind him, Ibram looked exactly like a messenger. Maybe he has a future in that field, Sayaka mused.

"Ibram, we're leaving."

"Ma'am." With a nod and a clicking of his shoes, Ibram lead Sayaka over to their jeep, the engine purring. They settled into their previous seats, with Sayaka fiddling with her blood soaked gloves. She was such a mess.

"Where to, Ma'am?" Sayaka didn't grace him a look.

"Back to our camp." Ibram nodded. With gravel flying behind the rolling wheels, they took off toward the 117th Musketeer's camp.

"Ma'am," Ibram spoke the first word on their way back to camp, going over a tall hill. "Do you have any other destinations today?" Sayaka stopped plucking at her gloves and stared at Ibram.

"No, Ibram." This was a flat out lie, but it settled comfortably with her. "Once we arrive, you're free to do your other duties." He looked like he wanted to say something, but stomached it and merely nodded. They continued their way to camp on the hilly path in silence.

Ibram dropped her off at her command tent, driving off to park the jeep. They both had saluted before departing, and now alone, Sayaka followed through her most pressing desire. Setting the frequency to the right channel, she hailed H.Q. Several moments later, an answer came back.

"This is H.Q., what do you need, 117th?" Sayaka licked her lips, structuring her request into something passable.

"I request that I, 1st Lieutenant Sayaka Miki of the 117th Musketeers, take over Major Kyoko Sakura's Red Lancers. I'm devastated over her death, and wish to honor her by resuming command of her unit. She was a friend."

"Request acquired, it'll be processed by the High Commander at a later date. We'll notify you if your request was accepted."

"Thank you."

The radio went silent. Sayaka glared a little at the communication device, feeling helpless. This was a big gambit, it wasn't common for another unit's commander to be outright asking another unit to command, usually it went to the most senior officer in the deceased commander's unit, or the most trusted person for that commander. Sayaka hoped this wouldn't backfire. She needed the Red Lancers' mobility to skewer the enemy, to massacre them quick and effective; just how she promised her friend. But in the meantime she better get cleaned up. Blood wasn't something she wanted to be coated in for much longer. Sayaka 'Witchblade' Miki went to the showers with a fresh towel dangling from an arm.

As predicted, the blood took a good long while to get off. Much scrubbing was necessary, a good portion of the red liquid drying upon her skin. She had a very faint reddish cast but she believed another shower and even this would be eradicated. Enough time had passed, she sent another request for command. She didn't know if spamming H.Q. with requests would help, but she had to try. Sitting around in her shaken state didn't feel right, and she thought that the number of requests would tell High Commander Anbey how much she wanted this. Only time would tell.

Sayaka went to work, reading reports and scheduling the next objective point. Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe was already, if her gut was right, deep into the city, creating hell. If they mobilized soon, they might make it in time to still be useful to her. Fresh forces supplementing those that were tired. She'd be a hero, and that would feel right to her.

She didn't want to do this. Her heart was still torn over the death of her friend, fresh tears threatened her every quarter hour, flashes of Kyoko aboard the Helena - smiling, laughing, grinning with a fork in her mouth - popped into her mind occasionally. She was in dire straits, with a tiny tremor in her hands, but she couldn't show it. Operations had to keep running smoothly, otherwise she wouldn't get to kill, kill, kill, stomp, stomp, stomp, scream her warcry and eat her pound of flesh sooner.

She signed her name, and pushed the paper to the side, placing the next sheet in front of her to digest.

* * *

Inside the Dearest Helena, the ill High Commander Anbey was scratching her nose. A particularly bothersome itch had forced itself on her nose's bridge, and she had to remove her glove to really dig at it. But she managed to scratch that itch into oblivion. Relief and pleasure flooded her body.

The door chimed.

"Come in." She replied, pulling the glove back on. A communications officer, visually recognizable by the silver receiver jutting out from his right ear, stepped into the room. Since Anbey's eyes were well adjusted to the dim lighting, she could tell he was holding a rectangular object in his right hand. "Sir," He began to salute, but was cut off.

"Ma'am." She growled.

"Ma'am," He redid his salute with a tsking Anbey. "The commander of the 117th Musketeers is requesting command over the Red Lancers."

"Oh?" Anbey grabbed the extended rectangular object. It was a data pad, with three requests, exactly worded with no deviations, staring back at her. She scrolled up and down, taking in every word. The communications officer stood motionless, unable to leave due to not being dismissed. Anbey thought the options through, the results and implications surging forth into her mind, then digested. Why should she assign the Red Lancers to Miki Sayaka? After many thoughts, many voices screaming in her head, she came to a conclusion.

"Assign leadership of the Red Lancers to Kyoko's subordinate, Chitose Yuma. Instruct 1st Lieutenant Miki that her requests have been denied. That is all, you are dismissed."

"Ma'am." The officer took the datapad and saluted again, leaving the room.

Anbey was alone in her chambers, contemplating her next move.

* * *

Yuma had an important mission. One of Kyoko's nice men told her she was their new commander - even called her ma'am - and that they were hers to command. The whole company stood behind that man. She stared at every single one. They all looked so hopeful, younger and more full of energy. As if they were rejuvinated.  
She didn't know how exactly to command them, what to order them to do. What would Kyoko-onee-san do in this situation? She had no idea, but she wanted something done to Kyoko. Something she knew would honor her onee-san.

She needed to find one vitally important person: A techpriest that was seen around Kyoko a lot. So much that Kyoko punched him squarely in the eye. Doesn't matter how he felt toward Kyoko before and after the punch, Yuma required his expertise. The techpriest was found in the one place he always frequented: the garage. Usually he would be in jovial spirits, waving his arms in the air while praising spirits for repairing something, but on this occasion he was somber. He didn't wave his arms, nor did he happily praise his spirits, but muttered his rituals and gratitudes with a deadened look.

"Tim!" The techpriest swung around to stare at where the voice came from. Left, right, his head went side to side before down, where Yuma stood. "Yuma has a special mission for Tim!" Such an innocent display, a kid asking for something while waving one hand in the air.

"Yuma? You're... Kyoko's aide, aren't you? Wha," he swallowed, frowning at her. She was a nasty reminder to him. "What do you want?"

"Yuma wants Tim to do something suuuuuper special for her!" She beamed, eyes twinkling with wondrous delight.

"What's that?" Tim asked, not wanting to know the answer but feeling beholden to clear up some last debt to the one that punched him.

"I want you to ex-ex-ex- take out all the blood from Kyoko-oneesan's body and paint her Chimera with it!"

The color drained from Tim's face.

* * *

The pen scratched across the paper. No other sound disturbed the command tent's environment. Sayaka Miki wrote in her journal, putting down the events of the day and her thoughts about them. Mostly she wrote about Kyoko Sakura. It was nearly an hour ago since she last requested for leadership role of the Red Lancers. Inside she felt anxious, worries mounting in her stomach. Her mind thought of her friend, Madoka. Sayaka felt an intense need to see her friend again, for she might find sanctuary with that person.

Yes, that sounded like a great plan to do. She should see Madoka and

The radio crackled to life.

"117th, this is H.Q., come in. 117th, this is H.Q., come in."

Sayaka swallowed, her heart thundering. It had to be accepted. She had to be commander of the Red Lancers now. Calming herself, she grasped the receiver, and spoke very calm. This surprised her.

"H.Q., this is the 117th reporting in."

"117th, your request has been denied. Leadership will go to someone else. Over and out."

Her heart hurt. A failed gambit, her vengeance that much more difficult. No matter, she thought, putting the receiver back, knowing full well who acquired Commander status. She would do a better job anyway. Gripping her pen, she wrote another paragraph before standing. She made up her mind, and left the command tent.

* * *

Finding Madoka's camp wasn't so hard. Just look for the highest, most advantageous spot in the back of friendly territory and there the Basilisks would be. Entering her camp, various soldiers of the 10th Corpse Rainers would glimpse at the passing Sayaka, and instantly recognize her. Stopping her, they would congratulate her on the success of single handedly taking an entire system of enemy trenches. She nearly snapped back each time explaining only a mad witch would do such a rash decision, but bit her tongue and accepted their praise modestly. She always excused herself after that, not wishing to say something bad.

She would know where Madoka would be, and checked the Basilisk Nest out. No Madoka. This confused Sayaka, for Madoka loved being up here. Maybe she'll be in her Command Tent, thought Sayaka.

Upon arrival, she wasn't there either. Various reports laying atop of her desk, the lantern dark, and the radio silent. Ah, she went to her personal tent and hasn't come back yet, Sayaka reassured herself.

"Yo, Madoka, you up and about ye...t."  
Opening the flap to Madoka's personal tent, Sayaka saw something that floored her. Madoka in bed with that dark haired girl from the Helena... Homura, both apparently nude. Sayaka couldn't believe her eyes. She doubted the vision she saw. For the briefest of seconds, her keen soldier's eyes saw the damage Homura had, but was discounted almost immediately. Then her vision was filled with Madoka's slumbering form.

On one hand, Madoka needed all the support she could get. Everyone does, especially Sayaka. But on the other hand, she snapped, and Sayaka found herself screaming at the two.

"I can't believe what I am seeing! My friend, whom I need to see, in bed, doing... strange things to her friend!"

Roused by the voice, Madoka's eyes flickered open, and with an uncertain tone called out to the visitor.  
"Cy... Sayaka... is that you? Am I dreaming?"

"No, this is reality, Madoka, and I, Sayaka, just woke you up. I, who should be dead, just like her friend, Kyoko Sakura of the Red Lancers. I, who finds her friend comforting another... instead of me." Tears were welling up in her eyes. Her voice began to crack at the end. She couldn't help it. She came for a specific reason only to find an obstacle in the way. She didn't need this. Madoka came to full consciousness more and more as she blinked her eyes, her slow, but sharp, brain processing the information.

"... The radio said very little of her death, Sayaka. All I had was a suspicion, and then Homura..." Madoka's gaze went to the slumbering form beside her, and frowned, remembering what exactly happened last night. A ghost of a smile replaced the frown, a blush tainting her cheeks, remembering what exactly happened after her stumbling into the tent. Sayaka saw this, grew intensely jealous, spinned around and stomped out of there without a word. She didn't trust herself to speak, lest she damaged a relationship.

"Sayaka...!" Madoka's voice blarred behind her caped back, then another voice drifted out, colder, harder, but feminine all the same.

* * *

Madoka wanted to get up and chase after the fleeing Sayaka, but love stayed her body.

"Leave her be, for now. She has a lot on her plate, and needs to sort everything out herself."

"But, Homura, she needs me. I... I shouldn't let her go like this. With this scene."

"I need you, Madoka." Homura sat up in bed, the blanket falling off her upper body. Modest nudity was exposed, a shadow of the thrills that was waged hours earlier. The two made eye contact.

"You... needed me last night." Madoka giggled softly, scrunching up her eyebrows. She really wanted to go straighten this out with Sayaka, but didn't want to leave Homura.

"I will always need you, Madoka." Homura reached for Madoka, gripping the back of her head with a gentleness that shocked Madoka, and leaned forward for a kiss on the lips. "Jus... just a little longer, O.K.?" She rested her forehead on the pinkette's, her violet eyes staring into those amber pools.

"... O.K., Homura." Madoka whispered, smiling true delights. With that response, Homura pulled Madoka down and cuddled against her form, limbs twisting around her. She took a deep sniff of her smell, and rested her head upon her chest, closing her eyes. The warmth Madoka provided eased her frayed nerves. Madoka stroked Homura's head, also enjoying the warmth of her other, all the while planning on seeing Sayaka later in the day.

* * *

"No!" Tim dismissed her, quickly distancing himself from the absurd requester.

"Whhhhhhyyy?!" Yuma cried behind him, running to keep up as tears fell down her cheeks. Tim's legs never ceased their flight, the deranged little girl demanding answers in a sob chocked voice.

After his stubbornness was worn thin, he caved. "Fine, I'll do what you request. ONLY," he held his finger at Yuma, who, from red eyes, looked up at him with hope, "Only, if this is the last request you'll ask."

"Yuma promises! All Tim needs to do is continue fixing our machines for us!" Yuma beamed like the world after a fresh rain shower.

Tim let a sigh out, knowing full well he was about to do something he would loathe to do.

* * *

How I have the energy and why I'm writing this down I have no idea. Maybe I wish to mark her grave, since she will never have one.  
Kyoko Sakura died in combat. The radio announcement was when. The soldiers, me, and possibly Yuma, although I haven't seen her, are all taking this news badly, especially the Red Lancers who have grown gaunt and grim.  
The way Kyoko went out was through a 'flak shotgun' something that is absolutely lethal in close combat. She isn't pretty. Every flachette went through her chest. The damage is beyond description.  
I've sent several requests to H.Q. for the transfer of the Red Lancers from Kyoko's command to mine. The last request was an hour ago; still no reply.  
I need to see Madoka. I want to feel her arms around me. I want to cry into her shoulder. I want to hear her sweet voice tell me I'm sane. I want

H.Q. denied my requests. The 717th Red Lancers will be lead by someone in their outfit. That's fine, perfectly acceptable. I can guess who got the mission.  
I'm going to Madoka now.

- From the Journal of 1st Lieutenant Sayaka "Witchblade" Miki, commander of the 117th Musketeers

Yuma will do her best to command onee-chan's Red Lancers. She may not be here but Yuma will act as her will made manifest. May Kami-sama have mercy on them, for I have none! were her last words. Yuma will honor them always and even in death I will serve onee-chan. Yuma asked that nice techpriest for a favor, he said yes, and I asked him to coat Ophelia in onee-chan's blood! He said no. :( Yuma cried, he said fine. Now onee-chan's blood coats her chimera's hull! Yuma is sure onee-chan is happy. She's fastest now!  
Yuma got him to ashify onee-chan's body, who now is in an urn aboard Ophelia. Onee-chan will always be leading her Red Lancers from inside and out! Onee-chan will see how hard her Yuma tries!

- The sole journal entry of Major Yuma, commander of the 717th Red Lancers.

Reading paperwork, forms, reports, orders; giving out orders, looking to the wounded with an uplifting phrase or word; continuing to breathe, to live;everything has lost lustre now that my best friend died.

- Incomplete journal entry from 1st Lieutenant Sayaka "Witchblade" Miki, commander of 117th Musketeers

- We need more red paint! Paint jobs are shot off by the enemy faster than we can put them on.  
- Red is fastest! - Out of red paint; why not try out blood?  
- My command chimera, Ophelia, has taken a beating the last mission but all I need is fuel and oil.  
- Fuel and oil supplied. Will find in Ophelia.  
- Ammunition's low for most tanks in my outfit.  
- Fresh ammunition supplied.  
- Fuel supply low.  
- Fuel levels filled to maximum.  
- Can any of you order that 'Praise the Omnissiah' guy to leave me alone?  
- No, he's a fully qualified techpriest and the best we have. - Praise the Omnissiah!  
- On second thought, the tracts are acting odd. Take a look.  
- The machine spirit tells me the clutching gears are worn down from neglect. Will perform ritual of appeasement! - Angry clutching gears replaced with happier gears. Praise the Omnissiah!  
- Yuma desires a green chimer

Bill w/ taxes included and hidden fees Total: Kill more QBs

- A work order from Major Kyoko Sakura, Commander Of The 717th Red Lancers


	4. Chapter 04: Mami's Victory

"Tiro finale!"

Those words were heard by all present, flashing across the battlefield with the splendor of a thousand angels descending from the heavens. With a golden glow, everything those two words, manifesting themselves in a beam, touched was purified, to the point of disappearing.

A low rumble shook the earth, melting into a quietness that could be felt in the bones, rather than heard in the ears.

Nothing remained. Nothing but blackened glass with not even the grace of having smoke trailing from it.

The huge cannon that shot that horrifying beam shrunk until it vanished; the user was still present.

Blonde drills on either side of a smug face, the figure surveyed her handiwork.

It had worked splendidly. Certainly she could only use that awesome power once in a great while, which forced her to think very carefully about using it, but in this case she had to. The occupants of that house were too well dug in, and an hour of attempting to kill them had irritated her. However, now it was different. They were dead, by her own hands, and for that, she was pleased.

Turning to the trio behind her, Lieutenant Colonel Mami Tomoe, Commander of the 102nd Valkyries, displayed a confidant smile. With a finger pointing in the direction of the previously occupied space, she addressed them.

"Charge, for your enemy stands before you."

With those words echoing in their ears, they did as they were ordered.

* * *

Tendon snapping, bone crunching, blood gushing, Mami swung her empty musket around like a club. It bludgeoned them with the force of her hatred, it's splendor forever whole. The three she dispatched lay crumpled around her feet, the slightly bloody weapon still in her hands. She panted a few times, eying them.

Scorch marks draped one section of the wall, a fairy tale of how Mami entered. These three, these three that now lay dead, made progressing that more difficult. So difficult that the Lieutenant Colonel had to rush them.

"Ma'am." One of the three soldiers called out to her. Looking up, she saw them all in the door way, guns in their hands. The soldier jerked her head to the side, and Mami nodded. They rushed to the next street, toward the sound of gunfire.

An empty musket, with silver embroidery, blood on the stock, remained with three broken incubators in a trashed room.

* * *

The incubator city was crumbling to the ground around them. Structures were blasted apart, burnt until they were husks, the roads were littered with debris, and in every house stood five tenacious soldiers, all equipped with their wicked guns, dead set on stalling their advance. Mami and her squad were doing amazingly well with this tactic, however, It had its downsides. Time was wasted by the gallons, a fact Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe disliked, but casualties stayed to a minimum. One on the charge toward the city - a noteworthy item all by itself - and two more to poor timing, or simply bleeding out.

Mami had another soldier about to bleed out. Brown hair tied into long twin tails, thick eyebrows over her cracked glasses, the girl held a stomach wound with a crimson hand. The other hand held a machine gun. Her ashen face was scrunched up in worry, and pain; she knew her end was near, too. The girl leaned against a half destroyed wall, shoulder first, with her right eye staring at the enemy's direction. Across the street stood another building, with a wall of plasma bolts pattering against their own building whenever they showed their heads. It was a typical situation for all the 102nd.

Right next to Mami sat another soldier, this one studying the enemy with her mind. Calculating and predicting the future, she tried finding out a better way out of this, out of killing them, all the while slowly spinning her wheels. Naturally it was getting her nowhere, that much Mami knew.

The Lieutenant Colonel was mildly lamenting the fact she had already used her Tiro Finale, lamenting the fact she had to run out there and risk getting killed. This was a horrible place to die, even worse to be buried in. Mami hoped, fervently so, that she and her squad would never be killed and buried here.

"Ma'am, I have a plan." The wounded soldier's voice was strong, full of conviction. Strong enough to get her attention.

"Speak up." Mami turned her head toward the soldier, as did the one next to her.

"Give me a few grenades. I'll run over there and throw them. Hopefully stop this stalemate."

"You'll die."

"I'm going to die anyway, Ma'am. Just look at me. I'm halfway there as it is. This way, I... I could be of use."

"... She has a point, Ma'am."

Mami looked over her shoulder before pulling out a few stick grenades. Tossing them, they twirled in the air, past the gap, and thudded over by her feet. Slowly stooping down, her blood slick hand gathered them by their handles, then rose again.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"What's your plan?"

"Go downstairs, come out on the street and attempt to run toward their position. They're situated on the right, so going with the left will allow me to evade their fire the best."

"... Don't die without having thrown at least one, Sister. You would have died for nothing." The soldier smiled, the first sign of warmth shining in her face.

"Of course, Ma'am. I plan on getting them all."

Opening her pockets, the soldier slid one grenade in each one, leaving one in her free hand. Machine gun in the other, she thumped out of the room, downstairs, and out to her death.

They watched from their ablaze lookout at the street, their prayers on the soldier's ability to pull this off, waiting to see their ally laying it on the line. A moment full of wailing shrieks against their only cover passed before they saw her running, hunkered low to the ground, already throwing a grenade. She had primed it before making the run, and was priming the next. The gunfire split in half, a storm of purple speeding toward her. Throwing the second, the girl fumbled with the third, going prone. The teardrops passed right over her, some of them splashing across her back. She didn't budge, or even flinch.

Her fate had been sealed.

The two grenades landed right outside the shooting nest. Alerted, the incubators inside backed away, a second later two explosions collapsed the wall. Wasting no time, the girl rose to a knell, fumbling with the grenade before getting it primed. Throwing it, she had just enough time to see the front of a purple projectile inches away from her face. The hearts of Mami and her still alive comrade rose to their throats as they witnessed the death of that girl.

Her body crumbled sideways, a hand still reaching out.

They believed she had failed.

The grenade, twirling in the air like a juggler's prop piece, with the strength of a freshly killed human, went through the newly created hole. The incubators, seeing the explosive device at their feet, attempted a retreat, only to be torn to shreds as it went off with the fury of the one that sent it their way.

Seeing the fireball and smoke erupting out of the building, the two remaining soldiers let out a cheer, their fists like iron. The stalemate had ended, now they could finish this strewn out siege.

Gripping their weapons, they raced to the next house, but first stopping to pay their respects to the fallen.

* * *

Out in a freshly cleared street, with its ruined buildings, Mami stood, paper fluttering past her boots. She eyed the furthest end of the street, hearing the sounds of warfare. The rattle of machine guns, the boom of rifles, the keening wail of the enemy, and the occasional human voice, either in pain or lashing. Eerie silence dominated for the most part, a soft breeze passing through. It caressed her face, her drills, causing them to sway with the force of a lazy rower's oar.

Feels good, thought Mami, savoring the cool texture. She didn't care it belonged to a foreign world, the breeze refreshed her as surely as it did her soldiers. That much she cared.

Her stomach hardened, then voided, a particular wail catching her attention. That was a noise they had to eradicate, to make dead and gone from the annuals of civilization.

"Ma'am!"

Mami turned around and around, looking for source of the voice, and spotting them a few paces away. She hailed them, and walked to meet them.

A radiobearer with a few soldiers stood before her, looking vibrant past the gore and grim covering their faces. Delight brightened their eyes, their trials by fire always bringing them rapture.

"Hail, Sisters, how goes the Purging?" Mami inquired, glancing into each eyeball.

"Ma'am, heavy resistance is prevalent. It's, well, unexpected from our previous assaults." One soldier noted. The others chirped in with variations of the same.

"It seems they finally decided to stop losing cities to us." Mami grinned, then nodded at the radiobearer. "Turn around, I'm going to report into H.Q."

The radiobearer did as ordered, and Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe sent a hailing message to H.Q.

"This is H.Q., 102nd. Status report?"

"Heavy resistance, light casualties. We're about halfway through our glorious purging, with the infestation burned away with the last orange rays casting down from the heavens."

"Good. Keep up the good work, 102nd, High Commander Anbey is counting on you. H.Q., over and out."

Mami hung up the receiver. Anbey was counting on them. A heavy burden for them to carry, but they were elite even if they had few in number.

"You heard the radio, Sisters. Our Commander is counting on us to clear this city out. We've already spent too much time playing their game. It's time to round up our numbers and start hitting harder."

The soldiers cheered, and followed Mami as she strode toward the sounds of war.

They were spread far too thin for Mami's liking. Their efforts were ill spent, dribbling everywhere with impunity when they should be a solid fist, punching down obstacles and foe alike. It was a time in re-deciding one's strategy, Mami thought, gripping her musket all the tighter.

The soldiers that follow her into battle were her responsibility, and for their loyalty, she would get them home intact.

* * *

Separated far from their CO, two soldiers fretted over their situation.

Both had experienced the good and bad of this siege, the victories and the setbacks. They both had taken wounds, not serious ones thankfully, but still, annoying wounds that when stretched would cause them to wince in pain.

In times of bad, they dug down, burrowed into whatever they could and fretted, like right now. With death beckoning them every second, they stayed low, hugging the ground, biding their time.

"Hey!"

"No need to scream, I'm right here."

Back to back, they lay in the same trench under a crumbling wall. One helmet with holes danced on a stick, keeping the enemy preoccupied.

"Ah, yeah... I have a question."

"... Ok. Shoot."

"How do we deal with this?"

"No idea," the other sighed, running a hand through her hair, scratching away at her scalp. Her eyes rolled around. "I say we continue doing what we're doing. The enemy is content enough to blast holes into my helmet - maybe they'll use up all their ammunition on it. Wouldn't we be lucky then?" It impressed her to see how determined the incubators were in damaging her harmless head apparel.

The other giggled. "Yeah, maybe you're right! Wouldn't that be a hoot!"

"Hoot!" They both grinned and giggled, relaxing.

After a while the other sighed.

"Maybe they have infinite ammunition?"

"That'd be a hoot, since that's literally impossible."

With the atmosphere in bad light, they waited, watched the helmet dance, and schemed. Soon the purple storm stopped, and all grew quiet.

"Hey! Still alive over there?" A very recognizable voice drifted their way. The two looked at each other, scrutinizing the voice in their minds as they brought their heads over the crumbling fixture.

Over the bashed in corpses stood Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe, holding a bloody musket in one hand. She waved at them with the other.

"Fall in, Sisters!"

"Y-yes, Ma'am!" Both cried out, happy to see her, the one grabbing what was left of her helmet and racing over to join her.

* * *

Purple plasma seared the buildings, stick grenades took out chunks of enemy fortification. People yelled in pain, in anger, in victory, orders were given and abandoned on a turn of the situation. Incubators died, grew smarter, more tenacious, started to dig in deeper. Resistance grew, souring the day's already stretched progress to an annoying standstill.

Pinned under what appeared to be a shop, Mami and three others squatted against the wall. Over their heads was the gap, and through that gap was the debris littered road, and past that road were incubators dug in, concentrating their fire whenever they caught sight of their heads.

Ionized particles wafted and died around them, small bits of purple, bright for just a second, only to disappear as vapor. The shop was taking the bolts for them, but High Commander Anbey was relying on them to clear this city. They were, in a way, critical to the whole battle plan. The 717th Red Lancers tangled with the east fortifications. The 117th Musketeers kept the Western trench system preoccupied, and the 10th Corpse Rainer's gave them a clear line forward. All so they, the 102nd, could slip into the city and raise hell.

They had been stalled long enough, decided Mami.

Fortunate be told, the radiobearer was with them, and was situated right next to her. Getting her attention, Mami told her to turn around. Having done so, Mami began to hail friendly lines.

"This is Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe of the 102nd Valkyries, requesting artillery bombardment. I repeat, this is Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe of the 102nd..." Where was 1st Lieutenant Miki? Mami raised her head up to quickly take a look around. This city would have been theirs, and the next one under siege if the 117th Muskeeters had participated.

"This is 2nd Lieutenant Kaname of the 10th Corpse Rainers, give me your X, Y, Z coordinates." The radio crackled to life, surprising Mami. She didn't expect it to be answered that quickly.

"Kaname?" The name rang a bell in her head, but she didn't have the time to persue it, as a purple plasma bolt flew at her. Her eyes widened, as if watching a train crashing off the rails. One of her soldiers grabbed her shoulders and forced her down, the plasma bolt flying through the gap where her head used to be, safely hitting a wall.

"Stay down, Ma'am." The soldier suggested, letting go of her superior officer. Mami nodded.

"Right. Kaname? Our coordinates are..." She listed them off as best as she could, visualizing the grid triangulating where they would be therein. The 2nd Lieutenant didn't reply, only silence. It made her worry over whether or not it'll come, but she stayed hopeful.

"Prepare yourselves, girls, ROT-D should be saving our lives." Mami put on her best smile, the three others giving hushed cheers in return.

They waited.

And listened.

They heard nothing.

They waited still.

Mami had time to decipher that voice. A bit naive, but overwhelmingly sweet, like a slice of cake with a strawberry on top. She knew of only one girl like that: Madoka Kaname, 2nd Lieutenant of the 10th Corpse Rainers. She had lunch with her a few times on the Helena, she remembered with a fond smile. That girl idolized her, a bright light in her eyes and an honesty that Mami couldn't help but find endearing. Maybe again they'll sip tea and eat cake.

A distant whistle caught her attention. It grew, and grew, until it definitely sounded like a bombshell falling. Mami poked her head up but for a moment, taking in the scene. It happened like frames in a film reel.

The same situation.

A vague blur of a bomb.

Impact.

Explosion.

Her hand held the receiver open still, she noticed as she dropped to the ground, which shook mightily. No wonder she didn't receive a reply, she had been transmitting this entire time. The building across the street erupted with kinetic force, a fireball expanding with great, searing heat. Alien materials dropped into their hiding place, dust soon to follow. The ground continued to shake, then slowly calmed itself, the great cacophony of noise dying down to an ember.  
Everyone there looked with a cautious pace, expecting the worse, but hoping for the very best. A flattened building greeted their visions, with naught a single incubator to grace them with purple death.

Mami eased her rigid stance while the three others burst out into screaming cheers, chanting ROT-D! over and over again. Glee colored their tones as their fists pumped into the air.

"The 102nd Valkyries thank the 10th Corpse Rainers for another saving grace, and I thank you, Madoka Kaname."

"Um, Mami-san, why are they chanting Rotty?"

What a silly question, thought Mami, how could she not know the obvious?

"Because you saved us a lot of trouble again. And it's 'ROT-D', dear."

"ROT-D?"

"Right On Target Delivery." Resistance was almost gone in this city, and with spirits this high, she didn't want to waste a single minute. "This is the 102nd, signing off."

Finally letting go of the receiver, she started for the exit, spurring her soldiers into action.

* * *

This one was the last soldier in the entire city. The very last one, in a tenacious group of soldiers that had managed to make this battle last an entire day. The sun was setting, fleeing this mess, sapped of its strength from all the glories it had witnessed.

The incubator, feeling no fear, no impending doom, lifted his gun at the incoming Lieutenant Colonel. With fury sparking in her eyes, and a satisfaction that this was the last, Mami lifted her empty musket, and delivered a very strong blow. Part of the enemy's face caved in, its skull tearing its brain into mincemeat. Its hands twitched, its body toppling over stone cold dead.

"Get me the radio, I need to report in!" Barked Mami, dropping her gun. A few minutes later, she was reporting in...

* * *

A familiar dinging noise disturbed the serenity of the High Commander's cabin. Anbey, ingesting bad news, glared at the door. The news was about the 717th Red Lancers, particularly of their former commander, Sakura Kyoko. A sheet of paper on her desk stated how the former commander was killed, and the facts infuriated the High Commander.

In the middle of the third ding, Anbey barked out a come in. The door slid to the side, allowing the radio technician to walk into the cabin. Around him was an air of intensity, as if he were a tightly wound cord. Anbey picked up on this despite her black mood, narrowing her eyes at the intruder.

"What is it?"

"Ma'am," The technician began, saluting her as was customary. She nodded for him to continue. "Lieutenant Colonel Tomoe of 102nd Valkyres has reported in mission successful, the city is ours."

Finally, some bright news! The black mood lessened considerably.

"Also, she has a request: Permission to bury the few casualties that she has sustained."

"Yes, sure, whatever, let them bury their dead!" Anbey blurted out, shifting in her chair. Her mind began to race with the next steps, and their consequences.

"Ma'am." The radio technician saluted and departed, but before leaving completely, Anbey called him back in.

"Yes?"

"Deny her request. Tell her that." The technician nodded, and left when dismissed. Anbey exhaled. They didn't have the time to bury the dead. Retaliation would be quick, and besides that, they had the momentum currently, and should make the best of it while they could.

Even if death, Major Sakura's method was being used.

* * *

"Your cup of tea, Ma'am."

"Thank you." The Lieutenant Colonel accepted the proffered cup of tea, sitting on a large chunk of a building. She sipped it, feeling the refreshing liquid bring life to her battered up body. Tea was an absolute treat after all that fighting.

Looking around, she saw everyone was partaking of their cups of tea, relaxing in their own ways.

She sighed. A few faces were gone. Smoldering, strewn across the land here and there, left where they died. It saddened Mami she couldn't bury the dead, no reason given as to why. The soldiers felt the same way, but orders were orders. You had to follow them, she told her reflection in the still pool of tea.

Where was the 117th Musketeers with their men and aid? The 717th Red Lancers with their quickness? Mami felt like something was remiss. But no matter. She and her squad conquered the city and purified it of all infestation.

Taking another sip, she propped the beat up metal cup next to her and used the last dying rays of afternoon to write in her journal.

Stopping, she looked up, and in the distance, she saw the hammerhead of Helena drifting nearer and nearer. It was the symbol of peace, for High Commander Anbey kept the ship away from every theater they'd been in. So its appearance meant all was safe, and that brought a surge of pride in Mami's bosom.

She reported in the all clear, and here H.Q. came; Anbey had great trust in her word.

Sipping her tea, relaxing after an entire day of hardship, Mami Tomoe waited in the open square of the city; she and her squad being the first there.

* * *

The city has fallen! My sisters and I cleansed the rockcrete and purged the infestation. The incubator menace managed to put down a fair number of my squad, to make a sunny day into an elemental one, to blacken a rainbow, but in the end we overcame them as jack boot heels on pebbles. I reported in our success and requested that the decreased be given deserved graves on Earth, under the cherry blossoms, but with a declination, I fear they must watch over us as we win against our foes on this barren, alien world. There was no time for a celebration befitting our accomplishment but we all did have a nice cup of tea.  
Anbey's ship is coming into view. An impressive sight that fills my bosom with relief. The battle's over. A transitory peace blankets our troops and a respite, however long, is promised.

- From the journal of Lieutenant Colonel Mami Tomoe, commander of the 102nd Valkyres

Click

[Timer at 00:00:00]

"Stardate B-001945367. Jugs reported in that the city is under our control. I've ordered every unit into the city's open square. As I speak my command ship is moving into position over the city. Victory is absolute, but at a price. Many of the troops died, however our single greatest loss was the commander of the 717th Red Lancers, Sakura Kyoko, who, LIKE A FUCKING RETARD, stood out in the open of her command chimera while hot death was scorching the air!"

[A deep exhale.]

"Reports and first hand witnesses state that a lone incubator soldier ran a suicide run up to her, and, before the final blow was struck, shot her in the chest with a flak shotgun. Dead instantaneously. Amazing."

[Silence for 15 seconds.]

"I promoted her subordinate, Yuma, to fill in the gap. If left unattended, the company would have vanished into nothingness."

- Incomplete audio log of Anbey, High Commander of the Entropy Liberation Army


End file.
